


Movie Night - Take Two

by Churbooseanon



Series: For Every Action, A Reaction [6]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Polyamory, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 23:19:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1706225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Churbooseanon/pseuds/Churbooseanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Washington was one of seven. One of five. One of less. Yet there was York and North, always there to support him no matter how bad it got. How could he not come to care for them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Movie Night - Take Two

“So this is it? This is the place?”

“No. This is _not_ the place. I just decided to stop here on this entirely random ship and I'm having you guys hitchhike the rest of the way there,” the pilot called back with such sarcasm in her voice that Washington could hear the rolling of her eyes in the tone. 

“I think we're here,” Wyoming chuckled under his breath, the sound reverberating through his helmet in that weird way it always did. Strange, they'd had this armor for a few months and Washington still hadn't really gotten used to it. 

“I'm surrounded by idiots,” the pilot groaned as the Pelican's hatch swung open and the light of the hanger bay poured in through more than just the small window. “Yo!” she shouted as she came out of the cockpit at last and strode past the group in some sort of personal rush for the group of individuals gathered just beyond the limits of the ship. “Brought in our shipment of greens. Hurry your asses and offload their supplies.”

“We can take care of our own stuff,” Florida offered, only to be met by a half-chuckle from the pilot. 

“Yeah, except I've got orders that you lot are heading right to the main training room for a little heart to heart with the Director, and so we get to haul your bits and baubles to your rooms,” she responded, not even looking back over her shoulder. “Now, off my boat! Move it people. I don't care who you are, just haul asses. Private Gates is going to show you where you're heading.”

“Sounds like they aren't going to give us a moment to breathe,” Virginia sighed, pushing herself out of her seat and striding after the pilot. West, as always, trailed after her like a lost puppy, and Washington did his best not to roll his eyes at that. 

He, for one, wasn't entirely sure why the two were both in the program. Sure Virginia was a great infiltration specialist, and West was pretty good with those heavy weapons of his, but the way he seemed to rely on his younger sister was strange. It honestly didn't seem like the kind of reliance one would want in a fight. 

“Considering that is quite in line with our experience planet-side,” Wyoming chuckled under his breath, as if that was some sort of joke, “I'm hardly surprised.”

“Now come on guys, I'm sure it is going to be all sorts of fun here!” Florida added with all his usual cheerfulness as he followed West and Virginia, pausing a moment to let Rhode Island slip out ahead of him.

“Yeah. Nothing like being considered greenhorns when we were already the best,” Rhode snapped in annoyance. “We only worked our asses off to make it this far and now we're the bottom rungs all over again.”

“Relax, Rho, you're getting worked up for nothing,” Arizona soothed as he joined the procession, leaving Wyoming and Washington behind. “We'll be fine.”

Washington was less certain about that, but he wasn't going to say it. Arizona and Rhode Island had made it through the recent round of selections on the last day, barely edging out Colorado and Michigan. If their concerns that the Project was going to narrow more than it already had were true... Well, Washington didn't expect to see them around long unless they started exceeding previous expectations. 

“Uh... This way,” a voice nervously squeaked as Washington finally stepped off the Pelican and joined the congregation of Freelancers standing out of the way of the crew rushing into the Pelican's hold to grab the things they had brought with them. “We're... Um, heading for the main training room. The, uh, Director will be meeting you there along with the Counselor. After that you're supposed to be paired with a Freelancer who's been on the ship for a while, and they'll, uh, show you around.”

Wonderful. They wouldn't even have time to find the bathrooms on their own before they were introduced to the competition. The people who would be trying hard to knock the only 'friends' he'd had for months out of the program would be thrust upon them almost immediately.

“Don't look now,” Rhode mumbled under her breath as Washington came to a stop beside her. “We've got an audience.”

Of course he looked, how was he supposed to not? The brief comment was more than enough to draw Washington's attention to the distant doors of the hanger, where a collection of people who didn't look like standard crew had gathered. A group of people in the bulk of power armor, standing in their own personal little rainbow. Those six, then, would be most of the other Freelancers. 

“Let's be sure to look our best, ladies and gentlemen. Gotta make a good impression,” Florida cheered as the PFC finally started moving, leading them toward the milling mass at the door. 

“Seeing as our careers sort of depend on that,” Arizona groaned, shaking his head. “Let's just get this over with.”

“Hey!” one of the stranger Freelancers called as the Washington's group moved past them, the other Freelancers making room. His armor was an odd gold-brown with white accents, a pure inversion of Rhode's. “Whatever you do, don't ask the Director what we do for fun around here.” 

“Fuck, York, once was more than enough,” a woman in lilac armor with green accents groaned in what had to be annoyance. 

“Yeah, no one needs to end up on the Director's shit list as quickly as you did,” a small woman in dark brown armor laughed. 

“Geez, just trying to be helpful,” the first one who spoke, likely New York, laughed as they finally moved out of ear shot of the alpha group of Freelancers. 

“Well, sounds like a hoot around here,” Florida said, and Washington could hear the smile on his face. 

Washington had a feeling this was going to be a long day.

* * * * * *

“Dismissed,” the Director's voice snapped, and without even bothering to look at them, the man turned away and started out of the room, the Counselor trailing behind him. 

With that the seven who had been hovering at the far edge of the training room seemed to come to some agreement and strode forward, led by a soldier in aqua armor. 

“Remember to be friendly,” Florida cheerfully warned them as the woman came to a stop in front of them, arms crossed over her chest. The other six, the ones who had been present at the hanger bay, hovered back a bit further, looking far more at ease with the situation than Washington knew he felt. Which made sense, the Mother of Invention was their territory, had been for months. Washington and the rest of his group were newcomers, invading the alpha team's grounds and clearly they weren't welcomed by some of the group. The large man in white seemed to prowl the edges of the alpha team, and the woman in lilac had an aura that screamed angry bitch. Then there were others who seemed more amused, like the man in gold-brown or whatever that was, and the one in dark purple and green, and a man in light blue. 

“My name is Agent Carolina, and the Director has left me in charge of your orientation. For the next few hours you'll be assigned a member of alpha team to not only show you around the Mother of Invention, but to answer any questions you might have. They've been given information packets for you, listing your room current room assignments, access codes for anything relevant to you, and your schedule for the next few days. This schedule is rough at the very best. It will be your responsibility to check in with F.I.L.S.S. in the mornings to be informed of any changes. If at any point in the next week you have questions, ask either F.I.L.S.S. or your alpha team partner. When I read off your name step forward. Arizona...”

Washington stayed still as Arizona took a step forward beside him, crossing his arms over his chest as he did. On another person it might have been an annoyed gesture, but he knew Arizona was nervous as a small woman in dark brown armor stepped forward.

“I'm guessing this one's mine,” the woman said, earning a nod from Carolina. “Come on then. Let's get this over with.”

“Wait,” Arizona called, already rushing after the woman. “Never caught your name.”

“Connecticut. But you can call me Connecticut.”

Washington held his breath to keep from laughing, because he knew Arizona's shoulders would be dropping as he rushed after the other Freelancer. Arizona was a self-proclaimed lady killer, and to be shut down so instantly would have been a blow to his ego. 

“Rhode Island... You'll be with Agent Utah.” The pale blue clad man took a huge step forward and offered a hand to Rhode, who promptly ignored it and started after Connecticut and Arizona. 

“I guess having women around who wouldn't tear our throats out was too much to hope for,” gold-brown New York quipped to the dark purple soldier. 

“You'd think you would have gotten it through your head already that you aren't the charmer you think you are,” dark purple came back with a throaty chuckle.

Carolina seemed to ignore the friendly chatter going on behind her, keeping her eyes on Washington's group instead. “Florida...”

“Here, ma'am, and may I say I'm pleased as punch to be,” Florida announced as he took a step forward. That actually managed to do what nothing else had and pause Carolina. Then she tilted her head and chuckled a little, which drew the attention of all of the alpha Freelancers still present. The idea that they were so caught off guard by her amusement was not encouraging. 

“Maine, he's yours.”

That statement actually drew laughter from the rest of the Alpha group, except lilac. New York and dark purple even moved to pat the monster in white on the shoulders as he moved forward with a deep growl. 

“Oh man, F.I.L.S.S., you have got to record this. It's going front and center on the next movie night,” New York laughed openly. 

“I'm sorry, Agent York, but it is against protocol for me to...” a female voice echoed through the training room and Washington stiffened at the sound. 

“It was a joke,” New York sighed with a shake of his helmeted head. “Gonna have to teach you comedy.”

“Thank you, F.I.L.S.S.,” Carolina said with a sigh, “but we'll be fine without you right now.”

“Of course, Agent Carolina.”

“And that,” Carolina added after a moment, “would be F.I.L.S.S., our integrated system AI. She's responsible for pretty much all computers on the ship. Maine? Take it easy on the guy.”

There was another rough growling noise from the giant Freelancer before he strode forward, grabbed Florida's shoulder, and practically dragged him off. Florida left them all with an echo of chuckles and a string of compliments on the other man's strength.

“West Virginia and Virginia...”

“We call him West,” Virginia offered as she stepped forward, her brother immediately moving to join her. 

“You'll be with North and South Dakota,” Carolina continued. With that the lilac and dark purple soldiers took a step forward. 

“I'm North, she's South,” dark purple offered immediately. “I heard you two are siblings.”

“Heard you two are twins,” Virginia came back without hesitation, disdain in her voice. “Not hard to guess why you're assigned to us.”

The disdain, Washington decided before Virginia had a chance to react, had been a bad move. Because immediately lilac, South, was forward a step, completely in Virginia's face. Just the differences in their build told him that this South was a combat specialist, not security, and she could likely take Virginia in a straight fight. 

“To kick your pathetic asses into shape,” South snapped, a growl in her voice. 

“Now South, that's no way to greet our new friends,” North countered, his voice soothing as he placed a hand on his twin's shoulder. “Consider me the welcome wagon, and South the angry horse pulling the cart.”

The way South's fists clenched made Washington certain that North was going to pay for that comment later. Still, he smiled at the way North seemed to take that in stride as he carefully turned the Virginias toward the door and then herded them out without seeming to do so. North seemed a bit like the Florida of this group, though without all the knitting. Okay, so he couldn't be sure of that yet, but still...

“Agent Washington,” Carolina's voice cut him out of his thoughts, and he immediately stepped forward. “You'll be with York. Don't let him get to you. And York, behave.”

It was the man in the gold-brown armor, because really, who else would it have been? With the exit of the twins only Carolina and this York had been left, and Washington had been pretty sure they'd been handing out assignments in order of their unofficial ranking. Wyoming had always been considered their top agent, and Carolina clearly filled that role up here, so...

“Hey, don't mind her,” York said as he reached Washington's side, throwing an arm around his shoulder in a friendly manner and bodily turning him toward the exit. “I don't bite. Promise.”

“I have a feeling that isn't what she meant,” Washington groaned as he let himself be guided. 

“From what I understand,” York continued as if Washington hadn't even said anything, “you guys have the day for adjustment and don't start the gauntlet until tomorrow. So I figure it's the perfect time for a casual stroll around.”

“And just what does a casual stroll entail?”

“Pretty much the same thing as a standard stroll, only with less armor,” York came back, a smile obvious in his voice and the tilting of his head. 

“I'd... rather not,” Washington admitted as they passed the threshold of the door. 

“Well, I at least am going to be more comfortable for this,” York responded, and almost immediately his fingers were at the locks on his helmet, and Washington was left staring as York pulled the bulky helmet off and hung it from the hook on his back. He stared as well as York's hand came up and ran through the short brown hair, actively coaxing a bit in the front to spike up a bit. “We don't get much down time, and I intend to enjoy it. I'll spare you the stripping down to civvies since you seem all business, but damn sometimes it's just nice to breathe unfiltered air. Or, at least, less filtered air.”

Washington didn't even notice that he bit his lip when York smiled at him. 

* * * * * *

“And this,” York said, knocking on the door with a nameplate reading 'Washington' on it, “would be your room. I expect they've moved your stuff in there by now. The codes are in that packet, and I'm sure you know how to change them. Armor's typically stored in special lockers in the locker room, like I said earlier, but there's another one in there for the people who prefer to keep it close at hand. F.I.L.S.S. is pretty good at managing light levels if you work with her, so don't be afraid to ask. Um... Let's see, what have I missed...”

For the life of him, Washington couldn't begin to think of what the older Freelancer could have missed. The last two hours of their leisurely tour around the Mother of Invention had been filled with a constant stream of mindless chatter that covered everything from dealing with the non-Freelancers on the ship—including which ones had terrible poker faces during the weekly poker game that had started up in the pilot's common room and run by someone named 479er—to what food to avoid at meals—apparently the meatloaf was substandard—and right down to the best times to shower based on the habits of the seven alpha teamers. 

“Oh, right. Warnings. Hell, better get this out of the way now. Okay, whatever you do, don't piss off the Director. His punishments are never worded as such, but after a few days of being Carolina's punching bag during training you really get the feeling of wrath of god coming down on you. For that matter, don't piss off Carolina. She's the best we've got, by a long shot, and to be honest, she's just scary. Pretty sure she could take my head off my shoulders if she really wanted to. Same thing with South, but she's a bit less deadly... And has a way shorter fuse. If North is around he can kind of mitigate her anger, but really, it's a better idea not to fuck with her. Connie too, that's Connecticut but don't call her Connie until you're more familiar with her. Of the ladies up here, she's the most approachable, but don't let that make you think she's friendly.”

“Sounds like a handful,” Washington mused as he activated the information pad York had given him a while before. “Actually, sounds a bit like Virginia and Rhode. They aren't the friendliest.”

“Well, my last warning, and this one is most important, is don't even _BEGIN_ to fuck with Maine. If South has a short fuse, then Maine has a contact fuse. He can go off at the drop of a hat. If you know how to handle him he's pretty cool, but Utah has more than his fair share of bruises from saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.”

“Anyone else I should avoid?” Washington asked as he opened the file with his access codes, a file that once again warned him would delete itself in twenty-four hours. 

York, apparently, didn't pick up on the sarcasm in his voice, and seemed to think for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. It's sort of a mixed one, though. North is a pretty cool guy most of the time, pretty nice all in all. But he's pretty protective of South. It frustrates her to no end, but there you have it. North gives a fuck about her, which doesn't make any sense to me, but he will ruin anyone who fucks with South.”

“Sounds like a nice guy,” Washington mumbled as he punched in his door code, and was rewarded with an order to create a new code. 

“He is,” York responded, a faint smile on his face when Washington glanced over at him. “Nicest guy we've got. Which in a way isn't saying much. But I'm sure you'll get along with him. North gets along with everyone.”

“Then I don't get the point of the warning,” Washington sighed as the door slid open after putting in a new code. “You don't mind if I catch some shut-eye do you? That schedule says...”

“Just tell F.I.L.S.S. when you want to wake up and she'll make sure it happens. They'll be laying the next meal out in about two hours...”

“Right,” Washington answered, moving into the room and finding his pair of duffels laying at the foot of the gray and yellow covered bed.

“Better not to be late either. The coffee goes fast, and the second pot takes forever to brew.”

“I get it,” Washington assured the other man as he turned and looked at York, finding the older Freelancer leaning against his door frame. “I'm not going to miss a meal.”

York nodded to himself and pushed off of the door, hesitating for just another moment. “Hey, one last thing...”

Washington's fingers had already come up to thumb the locks on his helmet, and when he hauled it off York hesitated. But Washington might just have been imagining that, because York was barreling on almost immediately. “I'm three doors down the hall on the left if you need anything. Otherwise, just ask F.I.L.S.S. and she'll be able to tell you where I am.”

“Thanks,” Washington sighed, turning his attention back to his room. After a moment the door made a quiet hiss as it shut. 

* * * * * *

“Nope. I'm tired of this. I'm done with this. No. We're all done with this.”

Washington couldn't help but look up when York's voice cut across the relative peace of the cafeteria. And here he had thought that early morning was the one time of the day that he was free from the constant stream of jokes that seemed to fall from York's mouth when he was around. Three days and York hadn't let up yet, taking any opportunity presented to him to get in a friendly ribbing on anyone in his path. From what Washington had seen of the mornings so far, York was pretty much just this side of being a zombie first thing, and barely did more than grunted before he had his first cup of coffee in him. 

“York...” North sighed, the purple armored Freelancer at York's side like he often was first thing in the mornings. 

“Nope,” York repeated as he looked around the cafeteria, and for a moment Washington thought he saw those eyes linger on him. Then the man was moving, making his way straight for the table that the beta Freelancer group had claimed for their own during the first meal. 

“What do you want?” Rhode snapped as York came to a halt at the end of the table, looking down at all of them. 

“I'm pretty much done with this stupidity. We get it already. You guys are new to us, we're new to you. But we're all Freelancers, we're all supposed to work together, and we're supposed to be adults. No more of this stupid division.”

“Who...” Arizona started to demand, moving to stand, only to be cut off by Carolina clearing her throat at her own table. That shut Arizona up, which Washington understood. He'd had the displeasure of a hand-to-hand fight with Carolina. While he hadn't been too bad compared to York, Carolina had proved her right to lead the group without any issue. 

“I think I actually agree with York on this one. We'll never learn to work together so long as we divide ourselves,” Carolina observed before taking a sip of her coffee. 

“Alright then,” Florida declared, getting to his feet, “let's get friendly with the locals.” Then Florida was moving, tray of food in hand, and headed for the table where Agent Maine sat on his own. Wyoming, after a long moment, followed, which wasn't too surprising considering Wyoming and Florida often worked together from Washington's experience. 

“I'm fine where I am,” Virginia insisted as she returned her attention to her bowl of oatmeal. 

“I...” 

York's hand wrapping around Washington's arm stopped his protest in its place. “Didn't you hear me. I said 'nope.' You're coming with me, rookie.”

It was either make a scene or let York haul him to his feet, and so Washington let himself be pulled from his spot, quickly fumbled for his tray, and followed as York dragged him to the table where he, North, and Utah seemed to take their meals. He sighed as York pushed him down onto the bench and stared at the apple on his tray as Utah scooted to the side to make more room for him, before raising his hand to wave to Rhode. There was a scoff across the room that Washington knew would be Rhode shooting Utah down, but it was followed by a surprising noise of shuffling. When he looked back over his shoulder the table he had just been at was held by Virginia and West alone, with Rhode and Arizona ditching them to join Connecticut. 

“You happy now, York?” North asked as he sat down across from Utah and shook his head. 

“Closer to it,” York agreed as he plopped down across from Washington and smiled. “Come on, rookie, take the helmet off. No need to hide your face for a meal. Not like they've got the waste disposal program in the helmets perfected yet. 

“Waste disposal program?” Washington asked as he pulled his helmet off and tucked it under the bench. If he was going to be forced to join this farce, at least he would act okay with it. 

“Something the techs are whipping up,” Utah provided. 

“Never gonna work,” York laughed, and Washington watched. There was something about the way the skin crinkled around York's eyes that made him pay attention whenever York laughed. “Anyway, Utah, North, I don't know if you've had much of a chance yet, but let me introduce you to Agent Washington. Washington, this is Utah, the puppy of our group, and North Dakota, one of the best active snipers you'll ever see. And I'm York, infiltration specialist extraordinaire.”

As Washington watched Utah and North shot each other a look, smiled faintly, and seemed to come to some sort of agreement. 

“Wash,” the two declared at the same time, their smiles only growing.

“Well, look at that. Three minutes free of your safety zone and you've already earned a nickname,” York laughed again. “Wasn't that worth it?”

“You're... Kidding me,” Washington said, looking from one member of the smiling trio to another in turn. “I'm not going to...”

“Too late,” North said, something between pity and amusement in his voice. “Once York gives a thumbs up on a nickname, it sticks.”

“If it helps, it means your name isn't a mouthful anymore,” Utah offered helpfully, if full of amusement. “Makes you sound more approachable than something as stiff as Washington does.”

“You'll get used to it,” North promised with a shake of his head. “And if you don't want to... Well, you'll get used to it anyway.”

“Thanks,” he responded, keeping his tone deadpan. Still, that seemed to be taken for what it was worth and conversation immediately changed direction as Utah started poking at his tray.

“You know,” Utah said conversationally, “we've got more than just fruit up there. I mean, there's cereal and bagels and bacon...”

“I noticed,” Washington mumbled, pulling his tray a bit further from Utah. “But you guys get a way better selection of fruit up here than we did planet-side. Not that it makes sense, but I've had more fresh apples these last few days than I've had in a decade.”

“Earther,” Utah said immediately, nodding so sagely that Washington had to raise an eyebrow in question. 

North apparently picked up on the gesture because he shook his head and turned his attention to Washington. “Don't mind him. It's just a game we play.”

“Game?”

“There's so little to pass as entertainment up here,” York provided, a comment which made Utah and North chuckle for reasons beyond fathoming, “so we make our own little games. One of them is Colonist or Earther. The rules are that you point out anything that might hint whether the Director is from Earth or a Colony.”

“You're... Kidding.”

“Nope,” North took over for York with a shake of his head. “There's so little out there on the Director, and he kinda does control our lives, so we're curious. We're never going to find anything out for sure, but we look for little clues.”

“Better fruit up here compared to where you were training would suggest there is a reason for better fruit,” York continued easily as Washington took a bite of his apple. “No offense to any colony brats out there...” Utah gave York a pretty dirty look. “But Earthers care more about fresh fruit because it's more readily available. And it's there in greater variety.”

“Well,” Washington said around a mouthful of apple, “I'm just going to say the fruit is way better up here and leave it at that.”

“There's a lot of things better up here,” York hazarded with a smile. “But you've got to take time to figure that out on your own.”

“Yeah, because being sealed in a giant metal can instead of getting to feel atmospheric sunlight every now and then is amazing,” Washington grumbled. 

“Yeah,” Utah agreed as he threw an arm around Washington's shoulder. “But we've got one thing up here I'm certain you didn't have down there.”

“That being...?”

“Movie night.”

* * * * * *

“Okay, so I'm thinking...” Utah started to say as he flopped down on the floor next to York's bed, his attention already on the computer display sitting on York's dresser. 

“Nope,” York cut him off as he started to fuss with a computer next to the screen. “You knows the rules, Utah. New guy gets to pick.”

“Come on, I found this great old Earth...” Utah protested, and Washington just found himself staring at the Freelancers assembled before him. North was already seated cross-legged on York's bed. It was as strange to see him in casual clothes as it was to see anyone else in the room. Both York and North were in sweats and t-shirts, and Utah seemed to have opted for shorts and a sweatshirt, a strange combination. Washington himself had found the whole idea of casual clothes around strangers a bit odd, but he'd pulled out an old t-shirt and worn pair of fatigue pants. 

“Utah, relax,” North insisted as he took a piece of popcorn from the bowl between his legs and threw it at the back of Utah's head. “We're trying to make him feel welcome.”

“Fine,” Utah grumbled, leaning back and sighing. Then, after a moment, he patted the floor next to him, looking pointedly at Washington. “Sit down. York and North don't share the bed, so we're stuck with the floor.”

“North doesn't shift around nearly so much as you,” York countered before waving Washington over. “Okay, so movie night works like this. We meet up every three days to unwind and watch movies. Don't worry if you can't always make it, or you find out you don't like movies. Sometimes our schedules mean someone can't make it, but movie night is still on so long as I'm free. We cycle through who gets to choose movies. This week was supposed to be Utah's, but he can chill the fuck out for the new guy. So, what kinds of movies do you like?”

“I never really watched much growing up,” Washington admitted as he moved to York's side. “I like action movies, though.”

“Action... Action... Hmmm,” York said, and when he leaned in to look at the computer Washington almost thought York had moved closer to him. “Ah, you ever seen Die Hard? Really classic action movie from old Earth. Greatest Christmas movie ever.”

“It's still not a Christmas movie,” North protested from the bed, and York just laughed in response. 

“Best. Christmas. Movie. Ever!” York insisted, not bothering to turn around. “Wash, why don't you just go sit down and I'll get this started, okay?”

“It's Washington,” he mumbled under his breath as he situated himself on the ground near Utah. Almost immediately North was leaning over the edge of the bed, holding out the popcorn bowl and smiling in that kind way he seemed to have. 

“Nope,” Utah insisted as he filled his hands with popcorn, “it's Wash. Get used to it and stop fighting. You're never going to win.”

* * * * * *

“York.” 

He couldn't help it. Wash took a step forward—when had he begun thinking of himself by that name, maybe here and now because it was what he could do for Utah—and York shook off his touch immediately. Nor did he stop there. Wash ducked as York's helmet flew over his head and slammed into a locker door, leaving a sizable dent. 

“Fucking _hell,_ ” York roared, not for the first time, punctuating it by slamming his fist into a wall. 

“York, I...”

“Don't,” North's voice whispered at his shoulder, and Wash just stood aside, letting North slowly make his way to the grieving Freelancer. “I've got this.”

All Wash could do was watch as North knelt by York, rested a hand on his back. Listen as North mumbled things quietly that he couldn't make out. Wait until North had York standing again, his whole body shaking. Stay still as North lead him out of the locker room. 

When they were gone Wash sat down on the bench that ran between the rows of lockers and stared at the locker York's helmet had hit. Utah's name stared down at him, almost like an accusation. 

Something told him that movie nights wouldn't continue.

* * * * * *

“You're going to be there tonight, right?”

Wash looked up from the meatloaf on his plate—York had been right, it was subpar—and just stared up at the other man in shock. Not three hours ago he'd watched York break down. Watched him scream and shout and curse and leave a rather sizable dent in a locker. 

“I... Uh...”

“North's turn to pick tonight. He's really into sappy movies and...”

“York...” Wash answered, trying to keep the concern out of his voice as York plopped down onto the seat across from him. 

“Wash,” North came back immediately, a warning in his voice. He even shook his head the littlest bit, but York didn't seem to notice. “I'm thinking of going with a comedy instead tonight, York. Oh, and were you getting any coffee?”

That seemed to catch York's attention, because York was almost immediately on his feet and bolting away from the table with intentions on the coffee pot. He wasn't even out of earshot before North turned his full attention to Wash. 

“Sorry about that... York was... Upset earlier. Utah's was the second death up here, and the other guy was a friend of ours as well. We knew the risks coming in, but sometimes you feel so... powerless.”

“You've had deaths up here?” Wash couldn't help but ask. 

“Yeah,” North sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You guys have any planet-side?”

Wash just shook his head. 

“Well, York should be back to good enough later. But he needs the business as usual tonight. I know it seems... crass, but you'll stop by, right? I can assure you Utah would have wanted it. He came around when our other friend died to watch movies, made us promise to honor him by keeping up the fight for him. It is still a war and all that.”

“I...” He wanted to say no, to say that he needed a night to clear his head and process how it had all gone so wrong so fast. But the look of concern on North's face as he watched York make his way back to the table, dancing around South as she stood up to leave, all the while carefully cradling his mug of coffee won Wash over. “I'll be there.”

* * * * * *

He arrived early, knocked lightly on the door, and was greeted by North. York was there of course, stretched out on the bed like he had been the last two times Wash had been here for movies, but staring up at the ceiling this time. He hesitated over the spot on the floor that used to belong to Utah, then pointedly moved to flop down on that spot. There was a low hum of approval from North, and then all attention changed to the movie. 

Wash made sure to laugh louder to make up for Utah not being there. He made sure to ignore the points when York's laughter died away awkwardly. He didn't even notice the sound of fabric sliding over skin.

* * * * * *

“Evenin' Wash,” York mumbled a few days later as he sat down next to Wash at the table. Strange how Wash didn't even consider looking for the other Freelancers from his group these days. Of course most of them seemed to be avoiding him, something he was certain had to do with the leader board that had gone up a few days before. His name had been on it, his and Wyoming's. All of the others had been alpha group. Arizona had stopped talking to him the week before, and Rhode not long after that. He'd never been close to the Virginias, and the pair hadn't even acknowledged him when they'd headed out that morning for their first training mission. 

How was it that he had come to spend more and more time with York and North than anyone else?

“York,” he greeted right back, shifting a few inches away when he felt York's knee brush against his. “You looked good with those locks this morning.”

“You'll find that I'm the best there is at breaking locks,” York laughed, reaching past Wash to grab the salt shaker on their table. Wash didn't quite flinch away when York's hand brushed past his. 

“Yeah, he's got this sort of weird romantic thing going on with them,” North agreed as he sat down on the other side of the table, a restrained chuckle in his throat. “One of the first things he said to me when we met was pretty much him waxing romantic on locks.” 

“I continue to insist that I've never slept with a lock,” York protested, and his knee brushed up against Wash's again. 

“You keep saying that, but when you come back from lock practice you always talk about how you nailed it.”

Wash just sat there as he watched the two descend into a silly argument that resulted in North laughing, York teasing, and the two of them trying to drag him into the fight. But his attention kept coming back to York and the fleeting, accidental touches.

* * * * * *

“Wash...” North said, his voice low and soothing as his hand came down on Wash's shoulder. The move was enough to halt Wash in his tracks on their way to York's room.

“I didn't know them well,” he admitted, not bothering to look at North. “Virginia was an ass, and West frustrating. It's just...”

“We're falling like flies,” North provided with a sigh. “I suppose that was always going to be a risk when we went into live fire circumstances, but...”

“I'm fine, North. Let it go.”

North sighed and they started to move again, only pausing after a moment when Wash came to a stop. North halted almost immediately, turned back and glanced over his shoulder at Wash. 

“North, can I ask you something?”

“Anything you need, Wash. I'm here to help.”

Wash sighed, even moved to run a hand through his hair. How the hell did he bring this up?

“You're... York's best friend, right?”

“Well, as much as one can be up here,” North said, concern flashing over his face. 

“Is he... Normally so touchy?”

“Touchy?”

Fuck, maybe he'd been imagining things. And yet he couldn't help but think of the knee brushing against his. The fingers that seemed to linger over long when he passed Wash the bowl of popcorn on movie nights. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but it seemed like there had to be more. 

“Yeah. He keeps... kneeing me under the table at meals.”

North stood there for a moment, blinked, and then just chuckled. “From what I can figure out, York is just a tactile guy. Pokes and prods and other stuff like that. But if you're concerned, I'll talk to him. He's never really been good at personal space.”

“Thanks,” Wash said, for all that he wasn't sure how much that would help.

* * * * * *

The door opened as it always did, on the sight it always did. York stretched out on his bed, waiting for them, a bowl of popcorn waiting. Except this time he rolled to his side the second the door opened, concern clear on his face.

“Hey, about the Virginias...”

“It's not an issue,” North provided for him, moving to the bed and getting into his accustomed position. Wash stood there for a moment, watching the way North sat cross-legged behind York's back, his knees barely brushing against York. Immediately North's hand delved into the popcorn bowl, which found its home just in front of York's crotch. Oh god, why was he even staring down there anyway? Wash let his legs carry him to the usual place and flop down as York cued up the movie with a controller he had rigged up. Somehow all he could think of was York and North behind him, close enough to touch each other, North's hand going...

Wash was thankful he had his back to the pair, because for some reason he found himself blushing. 

For all that he tried to focus on the movie, it didn't go well. York kept leaning over the bed, holding the bowl of popcorn out for him, seeming not to notice that he was draping his arm across Wash's chest in the process. 

Well, at least he was certain that the faint sound of cloth rustling behind him had everything to do with York or North shifting around, and nothing at all to do with what he kept imagining. 

He didn't apologize when he ducked out after the first movie; he just plead fatigue.

* * * * * *

Another night. Another movie. Another dead body to forget about. Rhode never came back from her mission with Maine. No, that wasn't right. She came back, over his shoulder, covered with blood. 

* * * * * *

“Where's North?” Wash asked as he entered York's room and was faced with only York. The other Freelancer was, as always, stretched out on his bed. 

“North?” York sat up and shrugged. “Beats me. He's probably off somewhere. He didn't say anything about being late.”

“Oh. So... Waiting until he gets here?”

“Well, since he typically handles the popcorn, yeah. I mean, this week we're supposed to draw from his supply.”

“Speaking of that, where in the world do you guys get that stuff?” Wash asked, plopping down to his usual spot on the floor. 

“The popcorn? We slip 479er some cash under the table to bring it up with supply runs whenever there is a chance. It's not quite smuggling, but you can't just have a movie without popcorn.”

Wash grunted in agreement. He just wished York and North didn't seem to favor the extra butter style so much. 

“Hey, Wash, you doing okay?” York asked, and before Wash knew it the other man was leaning over the edge of his bed, his face inches from Wash's. Almost immediately Wash found himself sliding a few inches to the side. 

“This is another concerned question about Rhode, isn't it?” Wash sighed, shaking his head. “Listen, she's gone and there is nothing we can do about it. What point is there in grieving?”

“Hey, if you need a shoulder to cry on, mine is right up here.”

There was something about the way York said it that made Wash hesitate and just stare at the other man. 

“Uh... Wait, what?”

“I'm just saying that I've had my share of experiences comforting grieving members of the military. I'll do anything it takes to help out a friend. No comfort too small or large for old York.”

All he could do was stare, especially at the little way York's eyebrows had wiggled at the last part. Had York just...

The door to the room slid open with a quiet hiss, and Wash gratefully turned his attention to North, who had paused just inside the door to take in the sight, his head tilted and eyebrow quirked with curiosity. The large bowl they used for popcorn was propped against his hip as he stood there, filled to nearly overflowing, and Wash could see that North's grip on the bowl had tightened, to the point of reddening his knuckles a bit. 

“Hey, North,” York greeted, not moving from his position half hanging off the bed and no longer quite in Wash's lap. 

“York,” North said in response, moving forward just enough for the door to close behind him. “Were you harassing Wash again?”

“No,” York insisted, but there was a quality to his voice that made Wash's head snap back around to look at York, who had somehow managed to get closer once again. How was he doing that while hanging upside-down over the edge of a bed?

“Wash, is he bugging you?”

“I... Uh...”

“North, I absolutely promise I was behaving and doing nothing at all that would upset Wash or you,” York continued right over Wash, a faint edge of concern in his voice. “Right, Wash? We were just talking.”

“Then why are you practically falling all over him?” North asked, and something in the way he said it, something in his word choice, made Wash's head snap back around to North. 

“Wait... What?”

“We were just talking and waiting for you. Honest.”

“Wash?” North prompted again. “Come on, you can tell me. If he's bugging you I can tickle him or something. York's pretty ticklish. Great revenge when he's being an idiot.”

“I'm never an idiot!”

“Yeah, and yet...”

“He... Was just asking me about Rhode. Said if I needed someone to talk to about it...”

“Oh god, he used the comfort line, didn't he?” North sighed, moving to the bed and plopping the bowl down in front of York. That, of course, resulted in York very quickly trying to scurry fully back onto the bed, an action that would have been more entertaining if Wash hadn't been gaping up at North. 

“Wait... I...”

“Don't take York seriously, it's bad for your health,” North continued, shaking his head. “Sometimes I think he came without the filter between his brain and his mouth. He sees an opportunity and he takes it. Just ignore York when he talks. So far as I can tell he doesn't tend to back it up.”

Wash continued to gape at the two until North got himself settled on the bed behind York, his knees still in that position of not quite touching York's back. Once again Wash found himself wondering about just how close North got to York. 

“What you pick for tonight?” North asked as if nothing had happened, but when Wash looked there was a strange light in his eyes. 

“Uh... Just this... Um...”

“This is why you shouldn't tease him, York. He can't even talk straight anymore.”

Wash watched as York started to open his mouth, a mischievous look flashing across his face, only to be halted by a sharp glance and a shake of the head from North. Something told Wash that he'd just been spared another embarrassing comment from York, but... part of him wondered what it would have been.

He picked the movie without really paying attention, and to be honest, he didn't even follow the plot. Instead he listened to the hushed sounds behind him. The sound of skin on fabric. A low, throaty chuckle. A rustle of the sheets punctuated by a shifting of the mattress behind him. 

When the first movie was over he excused himself again, conveniently 'remembering' that he had wanted to get the training room for an early morning run through with his rifle, seeing as he had a test on it in the afternoon that would determine whether or not he was fit for field duty yet. Neither York nor North said anything as he left, but part of him thought he heard North say something as the door slid closed. 

And he was pretty sure it sounded like North saying, “I told you to be careful with him.”

Instead of heading straight for bed Wash opted for a late night shower to manage the issue that the sound of North's voice pitched low and throaty had created.

* * * * * *

They were both there, waiting for him, when the Pelican landed. York mumbled a condolence as Wyoming and Florida shuffled past them. Wash was certain there was more, something about the Director wanting them for a debrief, but he really couldn't hear it. His head was still pounding with his heartbeat. His hands were still shaking. He could still hear Arizona's final words, muttered just a few minutes before in the Pelican as he bled out. 

North just pulled him into a hug.

The next movie night York sat on the bed instead of stretching out, and Wash let himself be talked into sitting between them, their sides pressed tightly against his. It was easier to have them there, to have the contact without the words. They didn't blame him, for all that he blamed himself. 

The warmth didn't hurt in the slightest. 

When he woke the next morning it was stretched out on York's bed, a blanket thrown over him, and York's back pressed against his. As he snuck out he could have sworn he heard his name on York's lips.

* * * * * *

They hadn't been the same since Arizona died, and at first Wash managed to convince himself that it was because he hadn't been the same. He'd been... Quieter, more reserved, more driven. But really, that didn't explain it. Didn't explain the way that they wouldn't leave him alone if they had a chance. Didn't explain the way that the two of them lingered longer than necessary in the locker room to talk to him. Didn't explain why York's fingers lingered against his longer than he thought was really innocent when York passed him things. Didn't explain why North took more chances to pat him on the shoulder, or to smile at him in that warm way, or to take him aside to talk when they had free time. 

Or maybe he just wanted to look for those things. Because he found himself behaving differently around them too. Finally promoted to the bed Wash found himself watching the other two out of the corners of his eyes instead of watching the movies. He had to work not to shiver whenever one of them went for the bowl of popcorn that now found its home in his lap—was it just him or did they go for the popcorn more often than he remembered—and the way their legs pressed up against his as they sat there was almost maddening in its own right. He always made sure to arrive a bit late so he wouldn't be alone with York, and yet when he came in he always found North there, sitting a bit closer to York than normal, talking to him in that hushed tone, and he didn't like the way his stomach twisted at the sight of that. 

He listened too, and he was certain that he was thinking too much. It wasn't possible that half of the double entendres York kept flinging were intended to be so. And there was no way that North was really glancing at him out of the corner of his eyes while they were watching movies. That low, rich chuckle of North's whenever he shifted a bit away from one of them couldn't really be that deep or suggestive. And yet when Wash thought of all of it alone in his room at night, the sound seemed to go straight to his crotch. 

It was the first time he found himself in the showers before a movie night, head pressed back against the slick tiles as he leaned against the wall for balance, hand wrapped tight around his cock as he thought about those chuckles of North's and those thrown away comments of York's that it hit him. Only as their names came silently to his lips as he reached his release that it really sank in. 

Somehow, without paying attention, he'd fallen for his best friends.

* * * * * *

How was he supposed to knock on the door? Holy fuck how was he even supposed to knock on the door? Wash ran a hand through his wet hair and found himself pacing back and forth in frustration as he tried to calm his racing pulse. Had he really just...? Oh god, he really had. Shit, how was he supposed to face York and North after that? How was he supposed to look at them and act like everything was normal after what he had just done? How could he ever look at them the same? How were they ever supposed to look at him the same? How was...

“Wash, you okay?”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck. 

“I'm fine,” he lied far more easily than he'd expected to when he turned to face North, who had concern written plainly on his face. Oh god, how could he have done that? 

“You don't look fine. You look like you've seen a ghost,” North countered, sounding even more concerned. He shifted his grip on the bowl of popcorn and knocked on York's door, which almost immediately slid open. 

“I'm... Just not feeling well,” Wash tried. This would be his last chance to escape and...

“Well then come on in. You can have the bed tonight. It'll do you good to get some rest, and we'll be at hand to get you anything you need,” North insisted, wrapping an arm around Wash's shoulder and herding him into the room. The whole length of the arm around his shoulders felt like fire, and echoed too readily a brief fantasy from the shower about being wrapped up in North's arms. Fuck, he really needed to keep away from thoughts like those right now. And yet, once he was through the door and it shut behind him there was York, lying on the bed like usual, his shirt riding up a little and exposing a portion of his well toned chest. Oh fuck, that was definitely not helping. 

“Wash? You okay?” York asked, sitting up almost immediately. Part of Wash was disappointed to find York's shirt fall to cover the skin back up. 

“He's a little pale. Says he's not feeling well, I figured we could give him the bed,” North explained, and York rolled off the bed and to his feet without hesitation. 

“Yeah, no problem there,” York said, moving to wrap his own arm around Wash's shoulder and he guided Wash over to his bed. Again he felt so hot where York was touching him, and his head was going all the wrong places. After all, here was York, guiding him to his bed as North watched on. 

“Get comfy, okay?” York told him as he laid down, a smile on his face. “We'll take care of you. Anything you need or want, just ask. We're here to make you feel better.”

Wash played the words in another way in his head. With York leaning in, so very very close, not to reassure him, but to do something so much more. 

“I... I don't think...”

“Sometimes life isn't about thinking, Wash. It's about doing what's right for you, and not letting your head get in the way,” York whispered, his lips so close and so soft looking. 

What was right for him and what his head was getting in the way of was leaning up and pressing his lips against York's. They were cooler than he expected, and not as soft as he was certain North's had to be. It wasn't much, it was soft, and it was awkward because York went rigid at the touch. With a blush Wash pulled back, started to stammer, started to pull away and apologize.

“About time,” York groaned, his voice suddenly deep and hungry and then there were hands in his hair, York's lips back against his own, and all Wash could do was grab York's shirt and grip it tightly in his fists as York pulled him close. There was a flick of a tongue against his lips and Wash gasped as he found York's teeth bite at his lip. 

“York,” North's voice barely cut through the haze in his head as York's hands started to slide down his chest. 

Oh god, what was he doing? North was going to...

“You promised to share,” North continued, his voice low and thick and oh god the sound of it went straight to Wash's groin. 

He whimpered when York pulled away, stared up at those beautiful gray eyes, and watched as York smiled wide and hungrily. “Well, the way I see it, North, that sorta depends on Wash wanting to invite you in on this.”

“I... You...” Wash stammered, staring at the predatory look on York's face for a moment before letting his eyes flick over to North, who was carefully lowering the bowl of popcorn to the dresser. 

“Well, Wash, can North join in? He's told me he thinks your lips are beautiful.”

“He... You...” Wash continued, still gaping as North moved toward the bed, which York was already shifting himself to climb onto. No, he wasn't just climbing onto the bed. York had moved to straddle him, and dear god the weight of him on Wash's stomach was amazing. Wash couldn't help but let his hands follow York, clenching and unclenching in York's shirt. 

“See, North, I kept telling you I could kiss him speechless,” York laughed, and Wash stared.

“Yeah, and I agreed with you. I was just saying it'd be better if you didn't do that right off the bat,” North countered as he knelt beside the bed. “How you doing, Wash? You okay? I can beat him up if you want.”

“Never been able to before,” York chuckled. 

“I'll deal with you later,” North growled, and Wash could feel York shudder above him at the threat. “Wash, I know it isn't easy when this guy is all over you, but I need you to focus enough to give me some straight answers here, okay? Can you do that?”

Talking was so difficult, and Wash just nodded as he swallowed hard. Dammit York was using the hand out of North's line of sight to brush against the inside of his thighs, and god the things that did to him. 

“Okay, so here is the first question. Do you want York to stop?”

Again Wash swallowed hard, but he shook his head rapidly, trying to get his point across. York just beamed down at him at that. 

“Next one: do you want me to join him?”

Oh god, that was a possibility? York's hand was still moving, slowly, barely, and Wash couldn't help but moan. “Pl... Please,” he managed to gasp out, earning a smirk from North. 

“One last thing, Wash... if at any point you want us to stop, just say it. If you get uncomfortable, if we're going too far too fast, then just say something. Or smack York. Or anything else you think of. I'll make sure we stop long enough to see if you're okay. Do you understand? Say you understand.”

“Understand,” Wash agreed, reaching out and grabbing North's shirt. All it took was a little tug and then North was over him, his lips pressed softly against Wash's. They were warm, they were gentle, and the kiss was nothing like York's. It wasn't a crash of bodies so much as a gentle press, and when North pulled away Wash followed hungrily, trying to pull him back for another kiss. 

“Damn you look good like that, North,” York said, his voice breathy. “I could watch that all night.”

“Yeah, I'd rather not,” North responded when he pulled back. “Do you mind helping me move him? I don't want to spend the night on my knees.”

“Not what you were saying last night,” York chuckled and Wash stared at them both with wide eyes. 

“You... you two...” he managed to gasp out despite York's roving hand. 

“Pretty early into the program,” North provided, pushing York slightly and York moved with no further prompting. “He pretty much jumped me on a movie night. I'm pretty sure 'come to movie night' is York's code for 'I really wanna hit that.'” 

“You...” Wash tried again as York and North's hands coaxed him to shuffle into a more central position on the bed, with North quickly climbing up to join him and York. Between the three of them the bed seemed far too small. 

“York asked me for permission to pursue you your second day up here,” North continued as if there was actually a conversation going on here instead of York leaning in once more to steal his lips. This time Wash didn't hesitate to sink his fingers into York's hair, which made York smile into the kiss.

York pulled away and Wash whimpered again, only to find North leaning in after a moment to kiss him once more. 

“You're a hard guy to catch, Wash,” York continued for North, letting his hands play over Wash's chest. “Hey, mind if I take this off?”

North pulled back a bit, and Wash stared up at those lips, moistened by their kissing. Still, he nodded, and almost immediately York's hands were gripping the edge of his shirt and pulling. 

“Damn, I knew he was strong, but... woah,” York mused over his chest as Wash pushed himself up on his elbows to make it easier for York to strip his shirt off. North chuckled under his breath, and once the shirt was free and thrown to the side North actually leaned across Wash and pulled York into a kiss. Wash stared up at the two, filled with wonder at how easily they fit together. Then York's fingers came up into North's hair and he could see York tug. The deep moan that pulled from North sent shudders down Wash's spine. 

“He likes it when you pull his hair,” York groaned after he pulled away from North, a self-satisfied smile on his face. “Something you should know for the future.”

Wash reached up and tugged on York's shirt, and with a smile York quickly reached down and stripped it off before leaning in for another kiss. 

“You still comfortable, Wash?” North asked, and Wash let a hand quest out and clench at North's leg. 

“Very,” he gasped when York moved enough to let him breathe. “Why...”

“You're beautiful,” North provided instantly, as if he had seen the question coming, or knew what Wash was trying to hint at. “We've wanted to get you into our bed for so long...”

“Coulda just...” Wash gasped and his back arced as York's lips moved to press up the line of his jaw, pausing every now and then to nip gently, “...asked.”

“Maybe,” York purred into Wash's neck as he kissed just below his chin. “But North and I kinda ran into a little problem.”

“What?” Wash asked as York's lips traveled down his chest, the kisses going hot and open mouthed with York's tongue flicking over his chest, or his teeth nipping him more. 

“We realized we didn't want you for only one night,” North almost whispered in Wash's ear—when had he gotten so close to it—and then there was a mouth on his ear, a tongue flicking over it, and teeth gently worrying the flesh. Wash couldn't hold back any more and moaned, his hips lifting a bit in response. York chuckled before his teeth pinched down on one of his nipples, York's other hand coming up to tease the other. 

“You... Oh god,” Wash groaned, biting his lip to quiet himself as York shifted further down his body pinning his legs rather than his waist. 

“No,” York insisted, his hand coming up to rest on Wash's chest. “Don't hold those noises back. I want to hear them. North does too. Don't you, North?”

The word desperately was mumbled against his ear lobe, and Wash didn't entirely know what to do with it, a question made all the more difficult by the fact that there were suddenly fingers brushing along the edge of his pants. 

“May I?” York asked, his eyes meeting Wash's. 

“Please. Oh god please,” Wash heard himself mumble as his hands reached for North, to tug on his shirt. Why was he still so clothed? 

“Hey North... Do me a favor?” York asked as his fingers started to fumble over the belt Wash suddenly hated himself for having put on. Why couldn't he have just favored sweats like York and North? They came off so much easier. 

“Now?” North asked, finally releasing Wash's ear.

“Yep. And mind taking care of your insulting excess of clothing while you're at it?”

North chuckled and Wash just watched as North pulled his shirt off. Just like York his body was well muscled and toned—who expected anything less from a Freelancer—but it was easy to see that North wasn't built nearly so well as York, or himself. Of course that thought flew out of his head as Wash watched North push his sweatpants down before kicking them off entirely. His eyes were drawn to the tent in York's purple boxers—really just because they were assigned these colors didn't mean he had to take them so seriously—and the slenderness of North's hips. Of course he got a far better view of it in a moment because North was moving, carefully straddling him. Wash raised his hands to try and touch that beautiful chest, and then North's hands were around his wrists, pinning them to the bed. 

“Is this okay?” North asked as he leaned down to kiss the corners of Wash's mouth. 

“Yes,” Wash squeaked, almost shocked by just how okay it was. The strength of North's hands around his wrists, the weight of him pinning him to the bed, it was amazing. He wanted to struggle, even tested North's grip and he moaned loudly when North didn't give at all. 

“I knew he'd like it,” York mumbled out of Wash's sight, and Wash closed his eyes as he felt the belt come undone and the button go a moment after. York's hand ground against his constrained erection before finally grabbing his zipper and pulling it down. 

“I've got to get these off him,” York declared and North shifted his weight just enough that Wash could lift his hips for York. 

“You still okay, Wash?” 

“Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god.”

“Don't stroke York's ego. It isn't worth it,” North promised before seizing his lips again. 

York tugged his pants down, not stopping until they were around his ankles. His legs effectively constrained Wash moaned as the weight on the bed shifted again, marking York's return. Wash had only a moment to register warm, moist air moving across his freed erection before he felt York's tongue swipe over the head of his penis. 

His hips started to buck, only to find York's hands there, pressing him down as the tongue returned, moving from the base of his erection to the crown, almost immediately followed by a mouth closing over the head of his shaft. York's tongue swirled around the crown of his erection once, twice, three times and Wash's hips tried to buck again—York's fingers were probably bruising his hips and he didn't care—only to be held rigidly still. Then the tongue was gone and Wash whimpered at the loss of the sensation. 

“I think he likes it, North,” York chuckled as fingers gently swept up his erection and Wash yelped in shock. Dammit it would be easier to see that coming without North in the way, straddling him and stroking his chest. 

“I'd hope so. You've been practicing this on me for weeks,” North chuckled. “You've put so much time into being ready for this moment that if Wash didn't like it we'd probably have to stop from disappointment alone.”

“He doesn't want me to stop. Do you, Wash?” The question was punctuated by another lick from base to crown.

“D... David,” he gasped, his body trembling at the way North tweaked one of his nipples. 

The hands were gone from his hips, the mouth from his erection, and even North's hand from his nipples. 

“You know, it's kinda rude to use an ex's name when someone's blowing you,” York said, leaning to look past North, amusement filling his voice.

“York's right. Sorta considered rude in polite society. If you're going to use a name, Wash, you should use one of ours,” North agreed, his voice warm and amused. 

“N-not an ex,” Wash groaned as York's hand trailed down the inside of his thigh. “Me. I'm David.”

The hand was gone from his thigh as York's and North's eyes went wide. Wash whimpered at the loss of the touch, but his attention was still on them, and the look that almost immediately passed between them. 

“Nic,” North said after a moment, followed almost immediately by York saying, “Miles.” The two continued to look at each other for a moment before North, Nic leaned back for a kiss from Miles. 

“Wait... Are you telling me you two have been involved for months and didn't know each other's names?” he asked, staring at them incredulously. 

“Yep,” Miles laughed before disappearing behind Nic again. 

“How do you...” David's words failed as Miles's mouth wrapped around him again, devolving instead into a deep groan. 

“We'll feel bad about it later. For now we're focused on you, David,” Nic laughed before seizing his lips once more. When the kiss broke Nic smiled down at him again, “Well... Miles has been focused on you for a while, so unless you're uncomfortable he intends to live out his recent fantasies.”

“He... You two...”

“Time for that later. Just lie back and enjoy what he's doing. I promise it's good.”

As if to punctuate that Miles's tongue swirled around him again before his mouth moved further down, and David could have sworn he felt the back of Miles's throat.

“Miles doesn't have a gag reflex,” Nic mumbled before kissing David's neck, his hands still immobilizing David's. 

“I...” David gasped around the sensations rushing through his body and head, “I can't...”

Miles pulled back, his mouth soon joined by his hand. They set a lazy pace, but with every stroke Miles flicked his tongue over his slit and seemed to pick up pace. 

“You okay, David?” Nic asked. 

“I... Miles... Nic...”

There must have been something in his voice because Nic leaned down and pressed his lips hard against David's as Miles's hand and mouth picked up pace. There was a heat pooling in his groin, building up and he tried to warn them, tried to tell them, but Nic was kissing him so hard and all he could do was moan into Nic's mouth on his as Miles started sucking on top of everything else. 

It was too much. It was all too much. An edge they had been pushing him toward and with one last flick and squeeze David's whole body screamed and went taut as a wire, his body arcing up despite the weight of Nic and Miles's grip. An explosion of heat and the sudden relief of pressure and dear god Miles's mouth was still there. 

For a long moment there was only the pleasure, his body shuddering and shaking as Miles's hand and mouth kept moving, kept squeezing, and worked him through his orgasm. Then, it almost felt like every bone in his body had melted at once, and David lay there, unable to move at all. His whole body felt limp and lifeless. 

Nic's chuckle was low and wonderful and he released David and shifted off of him to stretch out next to him on the bed. 

“Good?” Nic asked, satisfaction on his face for all that David could still see Nic's erection tenting his boxers. 

“Oh god...” was all David could say as Miles moved away from his legs and instead crawled up the bed, a motion that was amazing and sultry and had David not just cum he was certain he would have been ready for a second round just watching that. 

“You mind if I pay Nic a little attention?” Miles asked, his voice frustratingly conversational for what he had just been doing. 

“Please,” David managed to gasp out. “I...”

“Wanting to watch is completely fine,” Nic assured him, a wide smile on his face that said he quite enjoyed the idea. “I wanted to watch him do all of that to you.”

“Please,” David repeated. “God please.”

* * * * * *

“What now?” David found himself asking later as Miles and Nic wrapped around him, their naked bodies tangled with his, their legs a mess that David didn't want to think about because getting free to stand up later was going to be a task. 

“Sleep,” Miles mumbled into his shoulder, a smile pressing against David's skin. “Maybe a second round before you and Nic need to sneak back to you rooms.”

“Hardly sneaking when everyone knows it's movie night,” Nic countered, one of his arms thrown over both David and Miles. 

“Right. Forgot about that. We've had to sneak around for so long that I sort of forgot,” Miles laughed. 

“I... I don't...” David started, staring up at the ceiling rather than either of his best friends. 

“Don't think about it too hard,” Nic suggested, pressing a kiss into the nearest piece of flesh, which happened to be David's wrist. 

“What does this mean?” David asked anyway. 

“For us?” Miles asked. “Everything you're willing to let it mean. Because maybe we started out wanting to seduce you, but it got complicated, David. See, the problem is that you're this amazing guy. Smart and funny and fucking hot and...”

“And we sort of fell for you,” Nic finished for him. “And it's only gone down hill from there. And I don't want to to go back up hill if that means letting go of you or Miles.”

“Stay here with us,” Miles mumbled, his face buried into David's shoulder, and his voice heavy with need and concern. 

“Yes,” David found himself saying, a smile spreading over his face. “It might take me a while to catch up to where you two are, but I want to know you better. Yes. Please.”

Nic's lips were pressed against his wrist, and Miles's to his shoulder, and for now that was all that mattered. That and the heat of their skin against his body and their hands ghosting over his skin. 

“I think I'm falling for you both,” David said as their fingers explored his body. “God help me, but I think I am.”

“Don't tell Miles, it'll go straight to his head,” Nic purred before pulling David into a kiss, and David chuckled into it. 

“I hate you both,” Miles groaned even as he pulled them into his arms. “I hate you both so much.”

“Love you too,” Nic chuckled when he broke the kiss. “And looks like poor David's floating down that river as well.”

And he was pretty sure he liked it.


End file.
